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  I clutched onto the cool chain and took a seat on the rubber strip, smiling from ear to ear. I looked to where my gram was, to show her how high I could go on the swing, only the bench seat was empty. In that moment, the swoosh of the trees intensified and suddenly, I could hear crickets chirping off in the distance. A sob escaped me once I realized she was gone, nowhere to be seen. I jumped off the swing seat and hid underneath the little playground shelter where a slide was nailed against it. I curled into a ball and cried until my skin was as rough as sandpaper, and my hair clung to my damp face.

  My mom came two hours later, I’m not sure what took her so long. I never really asked her about that day because anytime I’d raise the question, she’d clam up like a shell, so I left it. Dad was there later that night too. He came as soon as he felt something wasn’t right. But by that time, my tears had long since dried. Since that day, it’s just been me, my dad and my mom. We’ve never spoken of the grandma since that day. She’s like Lord Voldemort in both homes.

  The great thing about coming from a split home, is I get two. New York City, where my mom lives, and Spring Valley DC, where my dad lives. He’s the lead detective in his division, and my mom owns her own business. I’m thankful that I at least have my mom within a car ride to the college, but I miss my dad and sometimes hate that I have to drive four hours to see him. My mom owns her own little coffee shop-slash-bookstore that is in the heart of Brooklyn. She lives in the apartment above it in a comfortable little loft. Money wise, my dad is pretty well off, but my mom barely makes enough, let alone to get me through college. I mean, she does okay and basically survives off of the loyal customers who have been coming in since she opened twenty-or-so years ago, but I was lucky enough to snag a great scholarship. All I have to do now is work for my living expenses. Dad always says that he could put me on an allowance while I’m here, but it never felt right. He and Mom have taken care of me all my life, I always vowed to myself that once I hit college, I was going to be an adult and not expect any more from them. They have done more than enough. They’ve both made sacrifices for me throughout, some, like my mom, her own family. Anyway, it just doesn’t seem fair to expect that from either of them now that I’m old enough to take care of myself.

  “Ame, hang these for me,” my co-worker-general store manager-slash-best-friend says, breaking through my past daydream. She hands me a white silk minidress that is clinging to a hanger. I take it, walking toward the white section of the boutique. I’ve been working at Dust Boutique for three months now, about two weeks after I started Columbia. It’s only weekend work and some Thursdays. Or when some highflyer rich girl bounces in splashing money around, then, we’re only allowed to close once she’s done shopping.

  “Helloooo?” Leila waves her hand around like a maniac.

  “What?” I ask because I didn’t hear what she said.

  “Amethyst Lilly Tatum. Did you just zone out on me again?” Leila places her hands on her slim hips, cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow.

  “Sorry.” I smile at her. “I was just thinking about that day with my evil grandma.”

  Leila stops, her face falling slightly. This is no surprise. Leila hasn’t heard me speak about my family, and even though she and I have only been friends for three months, our friendship has developed to be one of those unicorn friendships. The kind where you hate each-other in the beginning, barely tolerate each other, but then you decide you sort of love them and before you know it, a bond is formed, and you grow attached to one another. We also share a dorm room, so that’s every single day for three months that we have spent together. We fight and bicker, but we love and shelter each other too.

  “Okay,” she sobers, walking back behind the counter. “Want to talk about it? Or want to drink about it?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t really want to drink about it.”

  She sighs, rolling her eyes. “You never want to drink about it.”

  I shrug, going toward her just as the bell rings to alert that someone has walked through the door. “I know, right? It’s a good thing too, considering who the hell would take care of your drunk ass every weekend.”

  She laughs. She knows I’m right. Not only is she a difficult drunk, but she also has this bad habit of disappearing. In my defense, I haven’t done much living in comparison to other girls my age. I’ve had a very different childhood background than Leila. She only works here to basically, flip the bird at her wealthy parents. Yes, that’s right, she’s working to be rebellious. A luxury most of us cannot afford. Her father is a senator in the current elections and if anyone found out his youngest daughter was working at a fashion boutique, even if the honey diamond chandelier displayed the lavishness of her working space, it would still be a catastrophe.

  Lucky for her.

  Me, on the other hand, am very lucky to have this job. My mother and father both worked their butts off, saving enough money for me to be considered. Obviously, my grades and 4.0 GPA got me in, but without mother dearest and daddy daddio, I wouldn’t be here, and for that alone, I owe them both the world. But I can’t afford the world, so for now, me working will have to suffice. Dad and I are just as close as my mom and me. Their story is a strange one. They were best friends since they were three and then decided one drunk night after they both hit sixteen that they would be each other’s first. They did the deed and then laughed afterward, vowing to never do, or speak of it again. Only a couple of months later, my mom found out she was pregnant when mother nature decided to dodge her monthly visit. It was touch and go for a while there between them. Mom said that my nana kicked them out or something, so my Nona and Pop took Mom in. They helped and supported her throughout her entire pregnancy, and then when she had me, they set up a nursery until Mom and Dad purchased their first home. They both passed away in a wreck not long after that.

  It sounds weird, I guess, but I’ve never known my mom and dad to be romantic, they’ve just been best friends. I wouldn’t have it any other way either, the dynamic between our family has always been smooth. No jealous fits on either end because there have never been romantic elements. They’re still best friends to this day, which admittedly has caused some issues within their own love lives—more with my mom than my dad, who has been with the same woman since I was a little girl. Lara is witty, funny, and one of the top lawyers in DC. She and Dad are complete opposites, but they work and they make each other happy. My mom has never settled. She dated a douche when I was a bit younger, but something happened between the two of them and she never spoke about him again.

  “So, we are drinking tonight?” Leila repeats, locking the till and dropping the key back under the desk.

  I grab my bag, tossing it over my shoulder and shrug. “I don’t really see the harm in it.” Except I sort of do, because there have been two times I have ever gone out with Leila, and both times ended in her being arrested.

  “Oh, come on, Ame!” she whines, flipping her hair. “I promise I won’t get arrested this time, and besides, I’ve never seen you drink.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, unzipping my handbag to get my wallet out. “That’s because I don’t drink.”

  “Boo, you need to. It might loosen you up a bit.” I follow her toward the front door as she flicks the keys around in her hand. Maybe I should take Leila up on one girls' night since my life is epically tedious right now.

  “I can’t afford to loosen up, Leila, some of us have to stay glued together in a little puzzle in order to not only survive college but to actually pass.” Once we hit outside, I turn and lock up for her, sick of her twirling the keys around aimlessly. It’s just after six p.m. on a Friday night, and I already know she’s not going to drop this. It would be much easier if I only needed to fend off Leila’s over the top peskiness at work, but unfortunately, she’s also my college roommate.

  I turn to face her, whistling at a taxi that’s driving past. “Fine. One drink.”

  Her face goes from pouty-child-begging-for-a-cookie to spoiled-
bratty-child-who-just-got-told-her-parents-purchased-the-whole-freaking-cookie-store.

  “Yay!” She claps her hands in glee, then her face falls. “Oh no, honey, are we really catching a cab?”

  I clutch the handle of the bright yellow taxi, pulling it open. “Yes, now get in.” She pretends to hesitate, but then thinks better of it and slides into the back seat beside me.

  “You know,” she murmurs, putting on her seat belt. “I totally know where we can party tonight.”

  The taxi drives forward after I tell him where to go. “Really? Well, I was kind of hoping you would say that, you know, since you did invite me out.”

  She waves her hands in front of herself. “Oh, I know, I just didn’t think you’d finally say yes, but…” She taps her temple with her index finger. “Good thing I’m so resourceful.” Yeah, sure, alright. The taxi continues to drive us back toward the campus, so I take this moment to shut my eyes briefly.

  I know I have to visit my mom this weekend. I’ve been sort of putting it off for the past few weeks after finding out that she has finally met someone, and although I’m trying really hard to be happy for her, I’m ashamedly scared. I’m terrified, because although Dad has been with Lara for so many years, I know that he can take care of himself—emotionally, not physically. Every time I go home only proves this with the cooking he still likes me doing, and his shirts that still need ironing. Even though Lara always says to leave it and that a woman isn’t supposed to take care of a man, and that this is the twenty-first century where women work, feed, and provide for their families and cue pro-woman power (fist punch), I just can’t seem to allow it to happen. She takes care of Dad in all the best other ways though, the ways I’m sure he enjoys, but the ironing and baking his favorite cookies, is just something I like to do every time I’m home. Whether they’re still his favorite cookies or not, he allows me to continue. Probably for my own ego and not so much his needing to be taken care of.

  Anyway, my mom is a different story entirely. She’s quirky, loving, independent, and a true romantic at heart. Which is why I’m hesitant to meet this new man in her life. He could hurt her, and I don’t think I have the mental capacity to even think of that probability.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I unlock it, sliding it open to see “mom” flash over the screen.

  Crap.

  I’m really not good at snubbing my mom, and I feel like shit every time I hit “ignore,” so this time, I exhale loud enough to catch Leila’s attention and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  There’s a long silence, so I watch as the passing trees illuminate past from the streetlights. I know we’re getting closer to campus because I see the 7-Eleven Leila and I basically live at.

  “Honey, why haven’t you answered my calls?”

  “Sorry, Mom, I’ve been busy with work and studying.” I look up to Leila to see one perfectly arched eyebrow perched to the high heavens. I divert my gaze quickly. I feel like shit for lying, I don’t need her judgy little glare.

  “Oh, well, I figured. If I didn’t get your texts, I would have called a search party.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I promise I’ll try to make myself more available.”

  “Listen, the reason I called was—”

  I sucked in a breath. Here we go. The big “I want you to meet a man.” Though she didn’t know that my dad let it slip a couple weeks ago that she was seeing someone.

  “—I met someone, honey!” Her voice almost popped out of my phone, that’s how ecstatic she was. I instantly felt like a bratty shit for ignoring her. What if he doesn’t hurt her and it’s the real deal? Surely by her tone, he must be something special. My mom doesn’t sway easily. She may be frilly, but she’s also smart. Very street smart and savvy. A ninja, if you will.

  “Really?” I try for surprised, but when I look back to Leila to find her giving me the raised eyebrow look, I know that I haven’t sounded as smooth as I thought I did.

  “Yes! Oh, Amethyst, he’s amazing. I truly want you to meet him, honey. It’s important to me.”

  I shuffle in my seat. “Oh, well, how long have you been seeing this dude?”

  She giggles. “Well, a while now, actually. We’ve been taking it slow because he has children too, and it’s very complicated.”

  “Oh great, siblings,” I mutter. It wasn’t actually supposed to come out loud. I sigh, instantly regretting my choice of words. “Okay, Mom. Fine.”

  “You will come?”

  “Yes.” Good thing I’m hanging with Leila tonight. I fear I might need a distraction even if that distraction is her getting arrested.

  “Ok well good!” she excitedly answers. “So this weekend?”

  “Ah.” The taxi pulls up to the campus and we both jump out, Leila paying for the ride. “How about next weekend? I’m a little busy this weekend.”

  “Oh, well, ok, but it’s just that next weekend—”

  “—Mom? I gotta go, I just got home. I’ll see you next weekend?”

  “Ok, honey.”

  I exhale, my heart twisting in my chest. “I love you, Mom.”

  She sighs. “I love you so much, honey.”

  Then the line goes silent and I take a few beats to collect myself. “I guess I’m meeting my mom’s new thing next weekend.”

  Leila hooks her arm around mine as we both head toward the dorms. “Don’t worry, Ame. Your mom is a badass.”

  I tilt my head back and laugh. “No, she is not. She’s probably—”

  “—Ame, your mom is not stupid. Let her be an adult. I mean, she’s gotta get some some time. Can you imagine not having sex?” She pauses, and then regards me up and down. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

  I roll my eyes and shove past her through the doors, passing the reception desk where Dahlia is holed up with her feet perched on the counter, chowing down, what I’m guessing is her fifth donut within the last hour. We could probably be friends.

  I bang on the elevator key. “Actually, last time I had sex wasn’t that long ago.”

  “Oh really,” she teases, coming up beside me just as the doors slide open.

  “Yes!” I hiss, borderline insulted. Stepping inside, I crossed my arms. “Like, six months.”

  She snorts. “Six months is truly horrifying, and so your last sexy time was with Shane?” Shane was my ex of four months. Leila always says that I shouldn’t count him as my ex because we were dating for less than six months, and though I should agree with her because Shane was a dick, I just can’t bring myself to admit I wasted four months on such a jerk. Four months is still four months.

  “Of course!” We walk out of the elevator and toward our dorm room. “I don’t do one-night stands, Leila, you know that, and it took him a month to even come near my fortress.”

  She bursts out laughing while opening our room door and tossing her jacket onto her bed. “Your fortress? Well, sorry to say, but I’m going to need your 'fortress' to be trampled in a lot more than once every six months, not to mention after one month of seeing a guy. Loosen up, Ame! Trust me. The best feeling ever.”

  AMETHYST

  Everything hurts. My brain thuds like a hundred thousand bass lines were thundering through it at the same time, and when I reach up to caress my head, my hair almost damn near scratches the palm of my hands—that’s how rough each strand is.

  “I’m dying.” I try to pry open my eyes, but my eyelashes are stuck together like glue. My stomach rumbles in hunger but aches in pain, and my mouth is dryer than anything I’d ever experienced before. Worst feeling ever.

  I prop myself up onto my elbow, but all the pain and discomfort I was experiencing slams into me like a massive semi-truck carrying an entire store of Ikea crap.

  “Oh my God.” I give up, flopping back onto the bed, only that causes my head to spin furiously and my throat starts to swell from food reaching up my throat. I quickly cover my mouth to stop the spew coming out, but out of instinct, I lean over my bed—

&
nbsp; “Bucket!” Leila orders from somewhere across the room, but before I can open my eyes fully to focus on where the bucket is, vomit is coming out of my mouth, flying across the floor. Now my eyes are open. Wide, freaking, open. I sigh in relief when I see that in my blind state, I managed to hit the bucket and didn’t get a speck of vomit anywhere else. That I could see.

  I groan, my hand coming up to my forehead as I laid back onto the bed. “This is horrendous. I think I’m dying. No, actually, I’m already dead and I’ve woken in hell.”

  Leila chuckles from somewhere in the room, I’m guessing her bed.

  “You’re evil.”

  She giggles again, and screw her because she actually sounds normal. “Actually, you were up to quite the shenanigans last night. I’m a little impressed by your actions.”

  “My actions?” Though my eyes were wide open now, my view was solely on the ceiling of our dorm room. The hideous pale pink suddenly making my stomach queasy again for no apparent reason at all. That reason could be tequila. Or vodka. And whatever the hell else I decided to drink last night.

  “You don’t remember a thing, do you?” Leila chuckles before diving right into her story.

  “Dude, I broke into his house to save you after you called me and said that you had a one-night stand with—just saying—the hottest guy on campus—and I, in my drunken state, took your ultra-drunk directions to his house. Well, actually, I gave my phone to the taxi driver, who oddly, knew exactly where you were because, and I quote, ‘I’ve been there many times. I know where she is’, and then I climbed up the garden ladder outside his window, where you were waiting in nothing but your bra and—“she pauses, her gaze dropping to my chest as she waves her fingers around— “well, that.”

  I look down at my shirt to see I’m wearing a black Raiders top that I don’t recognize. My mouth drops open in shock.